My First World Problem.

Last Sunday when I went grocery shopping, I got so pissed at my cashier, a 20 something punk of a kid, because the entire time he scanned my groceries he talked to the bagger, another 20 something punk, about some other girl who worked there’s “boobs.” And it wasn’t so much that these punks were talking about some chick’s “boobs” but the fact that not once did they acknowledge my existence. Even when he had finished scanning, he just turned completely to the bagger and continued his conversation, without even announcing the total. Normally I can overlook this kind of rudeness from service people because, I don’t know what it’s like where you live, but rudeness is generally the rule not the exception here. I have been going to that grocery store for years, and it’s kind of more expensive and out of my way but I went there mainly because they always gave top of the line service.

Anyway, I ran my debit card through the machine, pushed all the correct buttons and waited for my register receipt. Dude ripped it out of his register and handed it to me without even turning around, like he was dismissing me. I took it from him and said “Thanks for the fantastic service, you were both great!” all passive-aggressive like, and they both looked at me with vacant punk-ass stares as I smiled at them all bitchy-like.

Well, I wasn’t about to let this go as I thought about it going home, so like a crazy loon with nothing better to do, I shot an email off to their headquarters, giving them both the cashier and the bagger’s name.

Oh. My. God. So far they have written me five times promising to “rectify the situation” that the manager of that store and the assistant were notified and will act on it and report back to them, and the cashier and bagperson will be spoken to, blah blah, blah.

So now I need to find another grocery store. I’m pretty sure Nate and Steve will have a pretty good idea who ratted them out, and they will want me dead. The worst part? That is the only store in Columbia that carries the brand of Circus Peanuts I like.

I’m almost positive Nate and Steve have already been fired, joined the Grocery Clerk Protection Program, moved up here under assumed names, and gave me crappy service yesterday. So you have nothing to worry about. Also,I’m willing to bet you aren’t the only customer they have completely ignored.

Some day they will get crappy customer service (at the bar or the crackhouse or wherever they’re the customer) and they’ll understand. In the meantime, good on you for not taking crappy service with a smile!

They don’t give a shit about their job, getting fired or much anything else.

I would go back. You probably won’t find them there. Even if they are, look at them like you’ll kill them with a bag of canned goods, and then smile as though you figured out how to find them after they leave work. If they think you’re crazy, they’ll be scared shitless.

Fuck that shit! They will not remember what You looked like. I HATE when they do that and have reported it many times with rare responses. Those fuckers should have at LEAST greeted you. Those ass wipes are “our future”? well they need get grow the fuck up!

Nah, go back in and stand on their peripheral, and just give ‘em “the look”. Do it again from a different vantage point, and then another. They’ll be going, “this bitch is crazy”. When checking out, ask ‘em about the differences between peas. It won’t be long before they learn some manners. She’s back. I see this as an opportune moment to have some fun. I’d be all over that.

They are too selfish & self absorbed to remember what you look like, so you are safe. How fucking rude are people becoming that they think it is ok to ignore a customer AND talk about some one’s boobs??? The universe does not revolve around you two idiots, grow up.

I would go back and when they looked at me I would smile real slowly and really brightly and not say a word.
There is really nothing scarier than a smiling, silent woman. Imagination can be a terrible thing when wasted in the brains (a possible stretch) of guys like that. Still, I imagine (a specialty of mine when thinking of punishments for our kids) that they would be jumping at shadows and trying to enroll in a ‘finishing’ school for manners OR they will show their cranial deficiency with a blank zombie-like stare… In which case you might want to bring J. with you to ‘trip’ for the getaway (padding your opportunities of survival is something I know you can appreciate). If you both survive, you can reward him with peanuts. (I really should have been a screenwriter of cheesy horror movies)

Somehow, I’m picturing the grocery chain’s “rectification” of the situation as involving electric cattle prods and Nate and Steve being made to chant “The Customer Comes First” until their jaws fall off.

I admit, this kind of thing is what makes me hesitate about complaining about poor service – the sheer servility that follows. Coupled with the needy follow-up e-mails, demanding to know if my needs have been met and that they will send an assistant manager to commit hara-kiri on my lawn if I am anything less than “completely satisfied.”

“Guys, I can’t thank you enough for your stellar customer service. Letting me know about that girl’s tatas has really brought me to the realization that we women are really nothing more than decorative servants, & I need to rethink my membership in the ASSASSINS GUILD . I’ll just be on my way, now, but I’ll be back with the rest of my fellow, female Assassin members… so that we can all get edumacatrd by you wonderfully wise young men.”

I set my sights too low. I got a cigar lighter. Of course, the theme of my party was “XXX Gave The Finger to the Mayas” since my birthday followed the Mayan end-of-the-world debacle in very short order.

Go back. You own the little bitches now. If they do act pissy, say something like “I used to kill bitches like you back in the sandbox for shit like this,” look down and mutter “shouldn’t have said that.”

Management is too much of a wuss to actually reprimand those dirt bags. They would never find anyone else to work for those wages. However management will fall over backwards stroking you into believeing that they actually care.
You need to go back and whisper to them that management said that they put a hit out on ‘em since that is way cheaper than firing them and paying settlement fees.
They’ll be over the state line before you get home

Speaking as someone who up until 6 months ago had lived in the deep south their entire adult life – you need to leave. Seriously. I didn’t realize how rude people were down there until I left. We drove across country to the new house in Washington, and it was amazing how the farther north and west we went, the more polite people were.

We went into a McDonald’s in, I don’t know, Kansas or Nebraska, and I actually felt like I had walked into a TV commercial. This was not the grubby McD’s I was used to in Alabama/Mississippi/Louisiana, with broken tables and rude illiterate halfwit employees who were doing me a favor evening taking my money.

It was clean, and shiny, and so were the workers, who were all smiling, and polite. The food actually looked like it does in the pictures on the menu. Halfway through our meal, the F’ing manager was circulating through the dining area, asking if anyone needed anything. One of the workers brought us drink refills, to the table, without even being asked.

It was bizzare. Everyone up here is so nice. I go Taco Bell here, and it’s the same thing.

This place may be full of lib-tarded hippies, but it’s nice not feeling like I’ll have to shoot someone everytime I leave the house.

YES! I totally agree. When I travel outside the South I am AMAZED how nice and polite people are. The so-called term “Southern hospitality” makes me laugh (at least in this area of the South.) AND I was particularly amazed at how nice people were out West and the Pacific Northwest. AND it’s beautiful out there. Sigh.

Wow. True story – my hockey team and I usually stopped at the same place after games. One time our regular waiter wasn’t there; the sub was terrible. I think we tipped 12% (vs. the usual 18%+). Next time we stopped in, she came over and bitched at us about it. And the time after that, we learned that she’d been sacked – apparently two of the guys complained about her – which led to our regular asking “What’d you guys say?” We always felt a bit bad about that.

Fuck those hump stains.They got what they had coming.I would find out their schedules and make sure I was in line every day.Nice and saccharine to the point they would know exactly who it was and that I now owned their asses.Also I would get the Devil involved somehow.